


Family Matters

by SpicedGold



Category: Boruto: Naruto Next Generations, Naruto
Genre: Coming Out, Family Fluff, Humour, M/M, Shika-Ino-Cho, These kids need better communication skills
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-05 11:01:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14617032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicedGold/pseuds/SpicedGold
Summary: It’s a delicate subject, coming out.“My mom is going to kill me! She’s going to kill me! My father is rolling over in his grave!”Somehow, this is Shikamaru’s fault.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very interested in the whole Shika-Ino-Cho tradition. Then this happened.  
> Thanks to my sister for beta-ing this.
> 
> Shikadai and Inojin are sixteen.

Shikadai peered out into the hallway, shouting out a questioning, “Mom?”

When silence answered, he closed his bedroom door with a look of smug satisfaction. “She’s not home. We won’t get caught.”

“Since getting caught is clearly the only thing worrying you, why don’t you just tell her and eliminate the risk altogether?” Inojin lay on Shikadai’s bed, shoulders propped on the pillows, frowning over his hand-held game.

Shikadai made a scoffing noise as he returned to the bed, sitting down next to Inojin.

“I told my parents ages ago,” Inojin continued. “They’re fine with it.” He frowned. “It’s kinda weird that they’ve kept it a secret. You’d think it would be the sort of thing they like to discuss.” Inojin might have called his mother a gossip on occasion. Most people agreed with him.

“Have you told your parents yet?” Inojin asked after a few moments, in case he had missed the big event and it was purely embarrassment that kept Shikadai locking doors and checking hallways and muffling moans.

Shikadai snorted. “My parents are the last people we’re telling.” He folded his hands behind his head and flopped onto his back. “It’ll be such a drag, and they always make a big deal out of everything. Things have been going just fine with no one knowing.”

“Except you panic whenever we’re here,” Inojin pointed out. He set his game aside, sitting upright to regard Shikadai with a tilted head and curious blue eyes.

“So,” Shikadai shrugged. “Relax me then.”

 

 

It was a while later, when Shikadai had one hand in Inojin’s now loose hair, and one hand up his shirt, that his brain registered a sound. He didn’t respond immediately, mostly because he was occupied with Inojin’s mouth over his own, and the other boy persistently grinding his hips down, which never did much for Shikadai’s powers of concentration. It was only when he realised the noise had not come from either of them – difficult to discern, they had both been making a lot of interesting noises -

Shikadai bolted upright, shoving Inojin aside. “Damn it, that’s my mom. Move!” He pushed Inojin a suitable distance away, hands flying to right rumpled clothing, cursing under his breath. “She’s right there-“

“How can you not hear her coming?” Inojin hissed, scrambling to tie his hair back.

“ _She’s a ninja_!” Shikadai hissed back.

“So are you!”

“Uh, such a drag,” Shikadai groaned, suddenly jumping to attention as Temari knocked on the door.

“Hey, boys, I’m home. Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” Shikadai shouted, sounding a bit too high pitched and not quite calm enough. “We’re just playing.”

“That’s what we’re calling it now,” Inojin said in a low voice, pale eyes sliding sideways to Shikadai.

When Temari did not enter the room, Shikadai let out a sigh of relief.

Inojin cocked his head to one side. “We really need to tell her,” he pointed out. “If you’re that nervous about being found out.”

“Ugh,” Shikadai covered his face with his hands. “I really don’t want to . . .”

“I’ll do it with you,” Inojin offered.

“No, it’s okay,” Shikadai breathed, emerging from behind his hands with a sigh. “I’ll . . . figure out a good time . . .”

The fact that it had been a year and he hadn’t found a good time was probably testament to how little he wanted to do this. But, it only seemed fair.

After all, he reflected, Ino and Sai were fine about it. So, hopefully, maybe, his parents would be too.

 

 

He timed it carefully. Shikamaru had been working late the night before, so he was tired and hopefully not firing on all cylinders, and Temari was due to leave for a visit to Suna. Shikadai hoped that meant she wouldn’t have time to yell at him too much.

His father was standing, leaning against the kitchen counter, staring blearily into his cup of coffee. His mother was bustling in and out, gathering things, tidying things, shouting out instructions to Shikamaru, none of which seemed to be penetrating.

Shikadai seized his moment. “Uh, Mom, Dad?”

He received a tired, raised eyebrow from one parent, and a look from the other, as though she knew what was coming.

He fought down a flush, eyes on the counter. “So I . . . um, well . . . Please don’t hate me.”

Shikamaru frowned. “We wouldn’t hate you.”

“What’s the matter, little one?” Temari asked, coming closer. Shikadai fought the instinctive urge to protest that he ‘wasn’t little anymore’.

This was why Shikadai liked putting things off. Admitting things was just not worth it. Ignoring it, living with it, seemed like a much better option. He drew in a sharp breath, “So I think I’m gay.”

He expected the silence that followed. Shikamaru was staring at him, expression unreadable. Temari was studying her nails, frowning and picking at one of them, as though that warranted more of her attention.

“Gay . . .” Shikamaru repeated deliberately, the wheels in his head turning unusually slow. “As in . . . liking men?”

“Yes.” Shikadai nodded his affirmative.

“Okay,” Temari said dismissively, dropping a kiss onto Shikadai’s head. “I’ll be home in two days, don’t burn the house down-“

“Oh, god,” Shikamaru exclaimed, colour draining from his face.

The other two occupants of the kitchen paused, waiting to see where this was going.

“My mom is going to kill me!” Shikamaru said, both hands in his hair and eyes uncharacteristically awake. “She’s going to think this is my fault. I’ve ruined the entire clan. I’ve ruined the entire family history. She’s going to kill me, and my father is _rolling over in his grave_.”

“Calm down, cry-baby,” Temari snapped.

Shikadai sat very still, trying not to draw attention to himself. He nearly leapt out of his skin when Temari laid a hand against his back.

“Seventeen generations,” Shikamaru repeated, starting to pace. “And I managed to screw it up. _Seventeen_! All I had to do was marry and have a kid, so he could have a kid, and I _still_ managed to get that wrong-”

Shikadai wasn’t quite sure what to think of his father’s ramblings, but there was a definite sense of relief that Shikamaru didn’t seem to be blaming him.

“You’re upsetting him, just shut up for five minutes.” Temari’s bold tone got Shikamaru’s attention, and he stopped pacing. “It’s no one’s fault, geez, how behind are you? You are the most moronic genius I’ve ever met.”

“Are you mad at _me_?” Shikamaru asked, disbelieving.

“ _Yes_. Because you’re making it sound like it’s a problem.” Temari stayed protectively at Shikadai’s back. He shrank down into his seat a bit more. “There’s nothing wrong with Shikadai. And you’re not the last Nara, so could you stop going on about the end of the clan? You’re scaring him.”

Shikamaru finally seemed to come back to his senses. He drew in a deep, calming breath. “Sorry. Lost my cool a bit.”

“A bit?” Temari snarked.

“A bit,” Shikamaru said firmly. He sighed. “Shikadai, sorry, I don’t . . . I’m not angry at you. It’s just . . . oh my god . . .” He covered his face with both hands. “I’m dead.”

It had never occurred to Shikadai how much the clan might mean to his father, and he was suddenly realising what sort of consequences his . . . preferences . . . might have. The Shika-Ino-Cho trio was a tradition. One that he would most likely break. He chewed on his bottom lip, uneasy and finally taking note of the enormity of his declaration.

Was there some sort of fail safe for a situation like this? Would he be forced into an arranged marriage? He had never taken a huge interest in the clan traditions before. Now it seemed like he should have. Maybe it would have been better if Inojin had been here . . .

Then Shikadai remembered the other boy’s complete lack of tact, and was grateful to be alone.

“Dad?” he ventured.

Shikamaru dropped his hands down, looking at his son with something akin to resigned despair.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, no, no,” Shikamaru waved his hands. “No, you aren’t. You don’t need to be. You never need to be sorry for who you are. Just, for gods’ sake, don’t tell your grandmother until I’ve had a chance to think about it.” He leaned heavily against the counter. “This is so troublesome . . .”

“Man up,” Temari said firmly. “Your son has told you something very important to him, and all you’re worried about is what your mother is going to think?”

“You’ve met my mother,” Shikamaru said slowly. “She’s going to flay me. Do you not remember how she went on about us having a kid? Do you not remember how she keeps asking when Shikadai’s having a kid? Do you not remember when she said she was going to set him up with some nice girl because you and I were clearly _not bothering_ with a second one!?”

“And exactly _who_ said it was a bother?” Temari replied sharply.

“I should go,” Shikadai slid off his chair. Leaving seemed like a good idea, even though the attention had shifted entirely from him – he was grateful for that, it seemed to overshadow his confession, which was nice. Certainly preferable to many ways he thought the conversation would go.

“You’re twisting my words,” Shikamaru said. “I said-“

“I swear, I will drag you into our bedroom right now and _bother_ you until we have another child-“

“I’m out!” Shikadai yelped, making a mad dash from the kitchen.

He reflected, as he shoved his hands in his pockets and walked down the street, that on a scale of one to ten, that had gone remarkably well.

 

 

Shikamaru took an emergency lunch, calling his team to meet at their usual barbeque place. He knew he was free to discuss anything with them, and thought the input of other opinions might be beneficial. He blurted out his new discovery the moment all three of them were present.

“Shikadai thinks he’s gay.”

Ino, bless her, didn’t bat an eye. “And?”

Chouji just continued to eat unphased. “Okay.”

“Am I over reacting, or are you two underreacting?” Shikamaru frowned. “This is a big deal. For the clans, anyway.”

“Something like this was bound to happen eventually,” Ino pointed out.

“Does it bother you?” Chouji asked.

“I just . . . I love him, obviously, that would never, ever change . . .” Shikamaru sighed. “But it just feels like the Nara clan ends here. It’s been tradition for so long, you marry, have a kid, and that’s the next generation of Shika-Ino-Cho. I have been trying to keep it together all morning, but I don’t know what everyone else is going to think. What if the clan shuns him?”

“Don’t tell them yet,” Chouji said simply.

“You don’t know exactly how things will work out,” Ino added sympathetically. “He’s still young, he’s only sixteen. There’s a lot of time for things to change.”

“Yeah, I know,” Shikamaru sighed. “This is just a lot to take in.” Shikamaru liked things to work out. He didn’t like problems he couldn’t solve. He really didn’t like that he was calling this a problem. He had no idea what was going on his head, and it wasn’t something that sat well with him. “I just want him to be safe and happy. And now . . . Well, what if people don’t like it?”

“Protect him,” Chouji said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yes, duh, but . . . I just want him to be happy, and I don’t think he is right now. And I think that’s because of me.” Shikamaru stared at the table top. “I’m worried he feels alone in this.”

“He might have spoken about it with Inojin or Chocho,” Ino offered. “Those three share everything. I’ll talk to Inojin tonight when I’m home.”

“Thanks,” Shikamaru said heavily. “Am I a bad parent?”

“No, you’re doing fine,” Chouji said.

“My mom is going to kill me,” he muttered.

Ino and Chouji shared a look.

“We’ve got your back,” Chouji said.

“We’ll keep you safe,” Ino added. “Although, you do seem to be overreacting a bit. It’s not like he told you he’s killed a man in cold blood. And your mom won’t mind.” She paused, thinking that through. “Okay, she might mind a bit. Or a lot.”

Ino shuddered slightly. “She’s going to be so angry.”

“Exactly,” Shikamaru said despairingly. “I love my son, but if my mother kills me, I’m rising from the grave to kill him.”

 

 

“Hey, darling, got a moment?” Ino slid into Inojin’s room that evening.

Inojin was sitting on his bed, a pad of paper in his lap, drawing quietly. He looked up. “Yeah. Is something wrong?”

“Has Shikadai been okay lately?” Ino asked, taking a seat next to Inojin on his bed.

He continued drawing. “Yeah, he’s fine.”

“He hasn’t mentioned anything . . . important?” Ino prompted. She knew Inojin and Shikadai were very close, and figured Inojin already knew about Shikadai’s little secret.

Inojin sent her a sideways glance. “Why?”

“I was just wondering,” Ino said, trying to sound innocent. “Shikamaru mentioned that he’d been a bit . . . um, different, lately. I thought I’d check with you in case he mentioned anything. Anything important?”

“Oh, you mean the whole gay thing,” Inojin realised. He nodded, attention back on his drawing. “So he did tell them. I offered to do it together, but I guess he managed on his own. I said I wouldn’t mind doing it with him. It only seemed fair since we’ve been together so long.”

“You’re a good friend,” Ino said, blissfully assuming ‘together’ meant ‘team mates’.

“Also he was nervous that Temari would catch us, so the sooner the better. I did say it would be pretty self-explanatory if she caught us, but he wanted to do it right.”

There was an odd sense of trepidation forming in the pit of Ino’s stomach. “Uh . . . caught you . . . doing what?”

Inojin blinked at her. “Making out.”

Ino froze in place. “What?”

“I told you.” Inojin’s pen moved confidently over his sketch. “We’ve been together for over a year.”

Inojin misinterpreted the silence that followed as Ino’s calm acceptance, and not as her complete and utter surprise and bafflement. The implications of his words finally sank in, and Ino bellowed at the top of her lungs, “Sai, get in here!”

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

“I told you,” Inojin said patiently, deprived of his paper, sitting quietly on his bed with both parents facing him with matching looks of confusion. “That I don’t like girls.”

“But you were five,” Ino pointed out. “All boys say that when they’re five.”

“Well, it still applies. Can I keep drawing now?”

“No,” Ino said. “What do you mean, you and Shikadai have been together for a year?”

“That,” he said hesitantly, unsure of what more was expected, “Pretty much sums it up.”

“When you say ‘together’,” Ino ventured cautiously. “What exactly do you mean?”

“We’re just kissing,” he said, with a shrug. “And touching a little. It’s nothing bad.”

She sent Sai a look, mentally encouraging him to contribute to the conversation.

“Well that sounds fine,” he said with a smile. It was not the sort of contribution Ino had been hoping for.

“ _Sai_ ,” Ino said despairingly.

“What? If he’s old enough to kill a man, he’s old enough to kiss one.”

Inojin’s face brightened a bit at that.

“You are not helping!” Ino fumed.

“But you told Shikamaru that he was over reacting, and it was no big deal when Shikadai said he was gay.” Sai was clearly puzzled by this seemingly out of nowhere contradiction. “Surely the same rules apply to us?”

Inojin cocked an eyebrow. “ _Now_ can I keep drawing?”

Ino spluttered indignantly, but Sai happily handed the paper back, considering the conversation to be over.

 

 

“Dad?” Shikadai entered the house carefully. He had run out of places to hide for the day.

“I’m home.” Shikamaru sounded from the family room.

Shikadai sought him out cautiously.

Shikamaru was sitting on the couch, head tilted back, face towards the ceiling and eyes closed.

“I know you said you weren’t mad,” Shikadai said, feeling unusually nervous. “But . . . you kinda are . . .”

“I’m not mad.” Shikamaru sighed, lifting his head and opening his eyes. “Want to sit? Your mother probably expects us to talk this out.”

Cautiously, planning several escape routes, Shikadai approached the couch, looking a bit like a deer in headlights. He eased down carefully, putting a suitable distance between himself and his father.

“I’m really not mad. You just surprised me. And I just . . . I guess, since it’s my clan, that’s where my mind went first.” Shikamaru sighed. “But you know what? It’s a new world. Things have changed. This isn’t a world of fighting anymore. It’s not a world where shinobi techniques need to be passed down from generation to generation. There isn’t a need to keep a bloodline going. And if you . . .” Shikamaru made a vague, magnanimous gesture with his hand. “Just be yourself, kid. That’s all I ask. Go wherever life takes you. Love whoever you want. Be whoever you want. And if anyone gives us crap about it, well,” Shikamaru shrugged. “We’ll blame your mother’s side of the family.”

A powerful sense of relief flooded through Shikadai, and a glow of affection at the use of ‘us’ and ‘we’. “So . . . you’re not mad?”

“No,” Shikamaru gestured his son closer. Shikadai slid across the couch and lay into Shikamaru’s side. It had been a while since he’d done it. He missed the warmth and closeness. “I love you, no matter what. Always have, always will. And even if the Nara clan doesn’t pass on its jutsu again, there’s always the other two clans. Even just two can be powerful, and effective as a team.”

Shikadai cuddled into him a bit.

“So, I assume you’ve got your eye on someone, if you’re sure about all this.”

“I’ve got a . . . there is someone . . .”

“You have a boyfriend?” Shikamaru’s voice lit up a bit. It instantly warmed Shikadai’s heart, to hear him sound so invested.

“Yeah,” he cast his eyes down shyly. He really wanted to rub the back of his neck – a nervous habit – but remained tucked into Shikamaru’s side.

Shikamaru chuckled. “That’s nice to hear. So, what’s his name?” He ruffled Shikadai’s hair.

“It’s Inojin.”

In the ensuing silence, Shikadai swore he could hear a cricket chirping.

“Oh, for fucks’ sake.”

 

 

“I don’t care if it’s too early for a drink, I think I need one.” Shikamaru grumbled, pouring himself a glass of sake.

Chouji declined, shaking his head and chowing happily through his breakfast buffet.

Shikamaru swirled the liquid a bit, just watching it. He glanced up as Ino approached.

“Please tell me Chocho has a girlfriend, because I will feel so much better about this if she does,” Ino blurted out as an interesting way of greeting.

“Come on, sit down,” Shikamaru reached across the table to place a cup of sake in front of her. “So, based on that statement, I’m guessing you and Inojin had an interesting talk last night.”

“He’s dating Shikadai,” Ino said faintly. “Did you know?”

“I found out yesterday.”

“Inojin seemed think we knew.” Ino was still in a vague state of shock. Now that the idea was with her, though, she realised why Inojin had thought she and Sai knew. There had been many a day when he’d breezed through the house dressed unusually neatly, and Ino had shouted jokingly, “Enjoy your date.”

The casual, “I will,” that had been the reply she had assumed was a joke as well. And every time Inojin had trotted out, shouting, “I’m going out with Shikadai,” she had thought ‘out’ just meant . . . out . . .

And perhaps there had been other clues. Like at the dinner table, when she’d asked if he wanted a girlfriend, and he had just blinked at her and asked, “Why?”

“I feel like an idiot,” she said. “He literally told me and I didn’t even notice.”

“At least you were told,” Shikamaru grumbled. “Not gonna lie, I’m a bit upset that he didn’t think he could bring it up earlier. He was worried about what I’d think of him. But we’ve talked it through. We’re fine.”

“I’m still in shock.” Ino admitted. “I get why your mind went to the clan tradition first. Because . . . are our boys the last of the Shika-Ino-Cho trio? It’s unbelievable . . .”

“I don’t think we need to go that far just yet,” Shikamaru said wearily. “But its certainly the first thought that came to mind.”

“Yeah.” Ino mulled for a while. Finally, three shots of sake later, she said brightly, “Shikadai has the best boyfriend ever.”

 

 

Temari was home two days later, and her first words on arrival were, “Any more drama?”

Shikadai had been hoping to be in bed by the time she got home, but was ill fated enough to still be sitting at the table finishing dinner.

“He’s dating Inojin,” Shikamaru said wearily, looking ready to face plant onto the table and spend the night there. “That’s two down . . .”

“Are you still going on about the clans?” Temari rolled her eyes.

“It’s a big deal,” Shikamaru protested weakly.

“Just take the Nara drama out of it,” Temari ordered, ignoring Shikamaru’s muttered reply of, “Like there’s no drama from your family . . .”

“If this had nothing to do with the clan, nothing to do with tradition, nothing to do with anything shinobi related,” Temari continued, “Then what would you say to your son?”

Shikadai would have been perfectly happy to not be present for this conversation. He tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, sick of being the centre of attention. If Inojin ever came up with any more brilliant plans like ‘tell your parents’, he was shutting that down instantly.

“I would . . .” Shikamaru fumbled for words, scratching his head awkwardly. “Just . . . tell him the same things I always do . . .”

“So we can agree that nothing has changed? You still love him unconditionally, and he’s always accepted in the family, and there is nothing wrong with him?” Temari prompted, as though Shikamaru was meant to have all that ready as an answer.

“Of course.”

“Good.” Satisfied, Temari gave Shikadai a one arm hug. “How are you, sweetie?”

“Regretting my decision.”

“Ino would have told us eventually, so you wouldn’t have been able to hide it for long.” Temari took a moment to consider something. “We should tell your grandmother,” she added.

Shikadai raised an eyebrow, and Shikamaru promptly choked on his coffee.

“What? No! That’s the last thing we need to do! Do you have any idea how troublesome it’ll be telling my _mother_?”

“I have an inkling,” Shikadai muttered. He avoided the razor-sharp glare Temari shot his way.

“I’ll invite her round for dinner later in the week,” Temari said, her glare steamrolling over the myriad of protests Shikamaru had at the ready.

“Do we really have to make a big deal out of this?” Shikadai asked.

“Your mom would have made a big deal out of anything,” Shikamaru said. “If you were straight, it would’ve been a party about getting a girlfriend. It’s easier to just do what she says.”

“Why are you so whipped?” Shikadai muttered.

Temari rested her elbow on the counter top, and her chin in her palm. “Because he’s a smart man.”

 

 

The day of telling Yoshino loomed like a black cloud over Shikadai’s blissful reprieve from stress. He and Inojin hadn’t found any time to be alone together since the delightful day of both sets of parents finding out about their secret relationship – which was secret to both parties and not one, as had been assumed. Shikadai and Chocho had laughed until they were crying when Inojin related the tale of Ino’s discovery.

Things at home had been normal. Shikadai had been pleasantly surprised to find that Shikamaru calmed down about the clan and his legacy ending, obviously deciding the topic was too troublesome to face. It felt like nothing had changed.

Until the dinner.

“We don’t _need_ to tell her,” Shikamaru hedged a few days later, wondering how many excuses he could come up with. He was the most nervous. “We could just let her assume whatever she wants . . .”

“No,” Temari said firmly, placing a cutting board with vegetables and a knife in front of him, with the unspoken signal to shut up and do some work. “Especially since every time I see her, she asks if Shikadai’s dating anyone yet.”

“That’s just a thing she does . . . she’s not asking seriously . . .”

“She’s already coming for dinner, and you are going to tell her,” Temari said firmly.

“We don’t have to tell her,” Shikadai blanched, suddenly cluing in to his father’s trepidation. Yoshino could be terrifying, and Shikadai had been on the receiving end of the ‘when are you having children’ conversation enough to assume she was not going to be pleased about the latest direction he was taking the clan.

“Ino already knows,” Temari pointed out, glaring at her two boys – one looking at the counter top and one meeting her eyes with his usual stubbornness. “Which means half of Konoha is going to know. The moment she gets over the shock, it’s going to be the talk of the town. Do you really want your mother to hear it second hand?”

Shikamaru had to admit defeat there. He grimaced. “Fine. But hide all the sharp objects.”

Temari smiled thinly. Shikamaru looked at his son. Shikadai looked back cautiously.

“You,” Shikamaru said, posture suddenly heavy, “Are so lucky. You’re breaking a long-standing tradition of Nara men marrying troublesome, over-bearing women.”

 

 

Yoshino, in the manner of Nara women, did not beat around the bush.

“What have you done this time?” was her greeting upon arriving for dinner, which did very little to inspire confidence in either her son or grandson.

The two of them traded glances, wondering what exactly the correct answer was.

“Whatever it is, Shikamaru,” she continued, breezing into the house, “You must have really done it this time. I know Temari can handle you, so I’m wondering why she called in back up.”

“Did it ever occur to you,” Shikamaru asked carefully, “That I haven’t done anything wrong, we just wanted to spend time with you?”

Yoshino sent him a withering look. Shikamaru shrunk back.

“He hasn’t done anything,” Temari finally interjected – although why she waited so long would forever remain a mystery to Shikamaru; the sadistic woman probably just enjoyed seeing him get yelled at.

The fact that Shikamaru was off the hook meant Yoshino then directed her look at Shikadai, who sighed and mumbled under his breath.

“Well, then,” Yoshino sat down. The other three sat with varying degrees of nervousness, ranging from absolute nonchalance to almost hiding behind his wife. “What has Shikadai done?”

Shikadai grimaced. “I didn’t do anything . . . They just wanted to tell you for some reason . . .” This entire exercise had led Shikadai to believe that confiding anything in his family was a bad idea.

“So,” Shikamaru started. “You know how you want . . . great grandkids. And how Dad always wanted to see the Shika-Ino-Cho legacy continue through the generations. And how it’s been going on for years and its kinda important . . .” Shikamaru rarely rambled. He looked at Temari for help.

She declined with a sharp smile.

“Don’t be mad at Shikadai, but there might not be another generation to follow . . .” Shikamaru paused. “Because he’s probably gay.”

Shikadai quirked an eyebrow at the ‘probably’.

“I know, the clans come first, and all, and it’s my fault, just ruining the whole family lineage since the founding of Konoha, which is troublesome, but –“

“You idiot!” Yoshino shouted, cutting off Shikamaru’s unnecessarily long clarification.

Shikamaru recoiled.

“That’s your son! Who the hell cares about some stupid, outdated, ridiculous clan tradition! Did you make him feel bad? I didn’t raise you to be a bad father, so you better get your head out of your ass and step up!”

“Mom-“

“My god, are you this lax about everything? Shikadai!”

Shikadai snapped upright in his seat.

“Did your father make you feel bad about yourself? Trust me, he is not too old for me to put over my knee and give him a good spanking-“

“ _Mom_!” Shikamaru sounded absolutely scandalised, and his indignation _almost_ covered the sound of Temari snorting with laughter.

“No, I’m fine,” Shikadai squeaked, unsure of what the proper reaction was. He eyed his father, hoping for guidance. “It’s not . .  he didn’t . . . we’re fine . . .”

“We’re _fine_ ,” Shikamaru repeated. “Please don’t hurt me.”

“Did you scare him?” Yoshino asked, eyes blazing. “If even for an instant my poor grandchild was worried about what his idiot father would think-“

“I didn’t!” Shikamaru yelped. “And why are you making it sound like it’s my fault? We just thought you should know-“

“He’s the most perfect grandchild anyone could have – better than you anyway – and the clan traditions can go jump. Stupid Nara men, always so stuck in their ways and refusing to change anything. Good for you, Shikadai, stick it to the traditions.” Yoshino grumbled a bit more before reaching out to pat Shikadai on the head.

“Uh, thanks,” he said awkwardly. Never again was he taking Inojin’s advice.

With admirable speed, Yoshino transformed from Angry Mother Mode into Doting Grandmother Mode, smiling indulgently and asking, “So, little one-“

“I’m not little anymore,” Shikadai muttered.

“- Are you seeing someone? Is there a lucky man?”

“Uh, Inojin.”

Yoshino sat back in her seat a bit. “Hm. Interesting. What are the odds of that?” She glanced at her son. “That’s two.”

“There’s still Chocho,” Shikamaru reflected. “One out of three isn’t bad.”

 

 

The next day, once things had simmered down and everyone seemed to have settled back into routine, the youngest generation of the Shika-Ino-Cho trio were sitting side by side on a wall, discussing the last weeks’ events.

“All things considered, I think that went rather well,” Inojin said blandly, leaning back on his palms and smiling at the sky.

“You boys,” Chocho rolled her eyes. “Always causing trouble.” She stretched leisurely, before getting up. “Well, see ya. I’ve got a date tonight.”

“See ya,” Shikadai said dismissively.

Inojin smiled broadly. “Tell Sarada we say hi.”

 

 

 


End file.
